Uprising
by Morgan Murdock
Summary: One timid child, who became a bold leader; One Maia, who enslaved a nation; and the North, who sought to free all. Three realms, two sides, one battle...and a struggle for redemption. Who shall be the victor?


Author's Notes: Hi there! This fic will seek to explore the Haradrim world and battle from their point of view. Tolkien didn't give us much info about the Haradrim, and so I'm kind of toying around with the idea of writing about them now. Please keep in mind that I'm not trying to finish Tolkien's work for him, but I'm trying to envision things from the Haradrim point of view. I will try to keep everyone in character as much as possible, and hopefully I'll stick to the canon. If you have any comments, criticisms, suggestions, flames, rants and raves or whatever, include them in your review. Happy reading! Oh, by the way, this fic is also loosely based on the recent occupation of Iraq by U.S. and British forces.  
  
Disclaimer: No, I don't own LOTR. And seriously, do I look like I'm making money from this? Oh wait.you can't see me.d'oh!  
  
Chapter 1 - A Troubled Desert  
  
Noon was approaching fast, and with it, the ever-mounting desert heat. A Cessna cargo plane was heading in a steady southwestern direction, soaring some 2000 meters in the air. There was nothing to be seen for miles, except small, scattered nomadic settlements, occasional patches of cacti, and endless sand stretching toward the distant horizon, where the earth kissed the sky.  
  
Dr. Siraj ibn Badr Saad sat restlessly in the passenger seat, glancing from time to time at the various gauges and meters on the dashboard. He shifted occasionally, not so much from the anxiety that was constantly gnawing at his insides, but rather from the discomfort of the old, worn out, seat. The springs kept digging into unmentionable regions, most painfully so when they hit a rather unstable, turbulent pocket of air. He and his team were itching to get their hands on the last pieces of artifacts from the temple they had been excavating; U.S. forces were already in the region, and the team received word from fellow archaeologists stationed several miles north of Dr. Saad's dig that raids were being carried out and precious, uncatalogued artifacts were being confiscated. To make matters worse, he had his wife and daughter to think about. They were with him now, flying to the excavation site. If they got caught, things could turn ugly.  
  
"No doubt, the same will happen to my dig if we don't get there soon," the archaeologist thought angrily. "Why now? Why must this happen to me of all people, when I'm finally onto something big? If we get caught, they'll take us into custody, we'll become suspects, and the dig will be shut down."  
  
"Why so glum, Siraj?" grinned Bakkir, the pilot. He was one rogue to watch out for. If you didn't know him well, he would steal right from under your nose, be it your Rolex, or a sandwich. Several months before, he worked for a small factory, transporting cotton and its finished products across borders. As soon as the forces had begun to arrive, all employment opportunities seemed to evaporate, partly due to the fact that besides cotton, Bakkir was also involved in trading arms with rebel and extremist groups on the other side of the border. Bakkir was jobless. But men like him always get around; always did, always will. People needed to get out of the country fast, and paid relatively good money to do so. On the plus side, there was always a way of covering it up. However, there were times when he almost got caught. And now, he was lucky to stumble upon an old friend in need of his services. Dr, Saad had promised him a big pay-off for his assistance, should the pilot get them all safely with the endangered artifacts into neutral territory.  
  
Bakkir's appearance, too, reflected his past. He had a sly grin, no matter how sincere he could be, accompanied by several gold teeth and a missing upper canine, and an unholy twinkle was ever - present in his dark eyes. His lank, tanned frame spoke of a restless lifestyle, and deep crow - feet sat at the outer corners of his eyes. Some twenty minutes later, they were preparing for landing.  
  
"Quick, get Leila out of there, and start unpacking." Siraj instructed Bakkir as they got out of the plane.  
  
"Yes, yes." The latter mumbled in response. He was about to light a cigarette, and simply hated it when someone distracted him during this bonding process.  
  
" Bakkir! Catch!" yelled a voice. Ayesha Miller, the archaeologist's wife, tossed Bakkir a heavy case containing some excavation tools and flashlights. Several more cases, crates, packs and a portable generator followed.  
  
" Oy, you! Make yourself useful, won't you?" Bakkir barked at two young men, part of the team, to help him carry the heavy load. He was a pilot, not somebody's camel. Almost the whole team was now out of the plane, and closing the distance between the plane and the entrance to the temple complex, when three helicopters appeared low on the horizon. For a moment, everyone stood still, eyes glued to the distant sky. The helicopters neared.  
  
"Inside!" Bakkir was the first to recover. " Everybody get inside! Imshi!" He turned and ran like mad for the entrance, herding the others into the cool darkness through the narrow, twenty-foot high entrance. He had a feeling he already knew what was happening; so did Dr. Saad, and they were none too happy about it. Somewhere in the darkness ahead, three-year-old Leila tripped and fell, getting a mouthful of dust, and almost losing grip on her stuffed toy, a pink and grey plush piglet. Tears stung at her eyes. She was scared, and the knee she had bruised on a broken slab jutting from the sand hurt immensely. Why were they running? What was going on? Ayesha picked up her daughter, and resumed pulling her along, deeper into the ancient edifice. She too was scared, and felt like at any moment, her heart would explode from her chest. Sometimes she wondered why she married an archaeologist. Finally, someone behind her flicked on a flashlight. Their hurried footsteps and voices echoed off the bare, rough, stone walls.  
  
The choppers landed outside, and the noise began to tone down. There were voices on the outside. Men, barking orders. The sounds of gun safeties being released; heavy footsteps echoing down the passage, coming closer to the team of ten people.  
  
* * *  
  
"Come on, men!" ordered Captain Williams. "Alright, listen up! We need all possible escape routes sealed off. Team Two, I want that Cessna checked out from tip to tail, and a report ready within forty eight hours, you got that, McKenzie?"  
  
"Yessir, consider it done, sir!" McKenzie saluted and ran off with his team to carry out said task. Williams continued.  
  
"The rest of you are coming with me. We have possible terrorists on our hands, for all we know, it could be Saddam down there."  
  
* * *  
  
They kept pressing on, deeper into the earth; it was much cooler down here. Saad touched the wall, coming into contact with rough, cool, wet limestone. They were underground now. How long have they been in here? In darkness, time seemed to drag on. It felt like hours already. Flashlights would do them no good. It could get them caught. The soldiers had flashlights, and guns, and they sure as hell will find them. What was he thinking? Panic rose in his throat. They were trapped in here.  
  
'Soon, just a few minutes more.' he thought fervently as he took the lead, and took Leila from her tired mother's arms. The chamber should be just a few meters up ahead. They were groping in the dark now, and the heavy loads they were carrying seemed to get heavier and heavier. The air was old down here; it was getting hard to breathe.  
  
* * *  
  
"Sir, they're straight ahead!" one of the soldiers shouted back to the captain. The light could illuminate the path only so far, and he thought he heard sobbing and voices somewhere up ahead. He was sure they were on the right track; so far the passage continued straight down, and as far as he could remember, no other passages branched off. His team hurried forward, once again in hot pursuit.  
  
* * *  
  
One of the younger men in the back heard the soldier's voices.  
  
"They're coming nearer!" He half - whispered frantically to those in front. Bakkir was scared, but a sickly grin plastered itself over his face. This was a nice way to break the monotony he has been experiencing for the past few days.  
  
"Here we are," breathed Dr. Saad, as they came to a fork in the path. He took to the left, and minutes later lead his team through a labyrinth of chambers, until they came to the last one. Ayesha fumbled for a flashlight, and winced against the light as Bakkir turned his on. After spending so much time in the darkness, the light seemed painfully bright. They stood in a low - ceilinged chamber, relatively small in size, and almost empty, save a few items and piles of debris left over from excavation. At the far end of the chamber were two trapdoors leading deeper. This was one of the last rooms they were working on in the Southern sector of the complex.  
  
Without a word, the small team began to dig feverishly, carefully but skillfully storing away the stuff they began to excavate earlier. Bracelets, bones, pottery, metal glasswork; there was no time for cleaning the items nor recording them. They had to be stowed away. There would be time for identification and preservation later. While the team worked, Leila stood a little ways further, out of the way, flashlight and stuffed toy. Several minutes passed by, and boredom took over. In a little while, she began pacing back and forth, and later still, her bladder made itself known.  
  
"Ummi, I have to pee," She whined, one hand unconsciously crushing Pookie the pink Piglet to her chest. "You'll have to hold it, habiba," replied Ayesha, her mind now focused on the task at hand: lifting a partially cracked clay bowl from under pile of debris and compacted soil.  
  
Leila trotted back to the place where she stood earlier, and resumed her pacing, only this time she paced further. Something in the corner caught her eye - one of the trap doors, with a set of stone steps leading down into another chamber. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she almost forgot her dilemma, as she descended into the lower chamber. There were beautiful carvings on the walls, pictures and all. She let out a small fascinated "ooh", and liked how it bounced off the walls around her, over and over. The walls showed people, villages, animals, the sun; so many pictures, as if taken from a storybook. But several feet to the left, the pictures turned ugly, depicting death, blood, and a carving that was shaped like a cat's eye, painted in red, yellow, and black.  
  
She turned and leaned on the wall, to take a look at the opposite one. There was a grating sound, and the thin slab was pushed back, and she fell backwards with it. Her rear hit the floor hard, and before she could realize what was happening, the space through which she had fallen was sealed by another block. She scrambled up, already sobbing. She was alone here. Alone in a dim, silent chamber, with only a flashlight. There were spiders here, creepy-crawlies.  
  
"Ummi! Ummi? Help! Bakkir, Daddeee! H-help me-e-e!" She wailed, as tears ran unchecked down her cheeks. Tiny fists pounded in vain on the unrelenting wall, until at last, too tired, she slid down the wall, and curled into a trembling, sobbing ball. They didn't hear her - she would die here, alone. Fresh tears burst forward as the realization dawned on her that she would never see her parents again.  
  
* * *  
  
"Um, Sir?" the soldier at the front spoke up, doubt tainting his voice.  
  
"What is it, Novak?" Williams pushed his way to the front.  
  
"Where to?"  
  
"Split up. We'll keep in touch via radio." The dismay was clear in the captain's tone.  
  
* * *  
  
She didn't know how long she was in there. The light was growing dimmer, but still she could see very well. How was that possible? She frowned, and then realized something. There was light coming from the adjoining room - no, passage. She stood up shakily, and walked forward. There were lit torches lining the walls, and gave off flickering warm light. Silent, she walked forward, going where her feet took her, entranced by the dancing firelight. She was wandering deeper and deeper.  
  
* * *  
  
"I think that's all." One of the anthropology students, Omar Lecky, brushed himself off and placed the final item into a backpack.  
  
"It's been roughly twenty minutes. Think we shook them off?"  
  
"Maybe they got lost?" Suggested the other student. Saad shook his head in disagreement, hoisting a heavy pack over his shoulder.  
  
"It's best we get going," He turned, then stopped. How were they going to get back, if the American soldiers were still somewhere back there?  
  
'That could be a problem,'  
  
"Come, Leila, we must go." Ayesha turned to where Leila was previously pacing, and stood still, as though she had been turned to stone. Leila was not there. The others looked around. No trace of the little girl. By the time they checked the lower rooms, Ayesha was frantic, and weeping for her only daughter. Siraj couldn't believe this. He's just lost a child in one of the largest and most dangerous excavation sites in the Middle East. And he still didn't know how they'd get out undetected.  
  
* * *  
  
There were voices, and shadows moving up ahead. There was yet another hall at the end of this corridor. Hope arose in her. She heard a female voice.  
  
"Ummi!" She ran, then skidded to a halt. Before her, it seemed, was a scene of one of the wall paintings come to life. 


End file.
